


Old Long Time

by CherBearDaCareBear



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Episode: s06e06 The Dover Test, F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-20
Updated: 2004-12-20
Packaged: 2019-05-15 20:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14797070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherBearDaCareBear/pseuds/CherBearDaCareBear
Summary: Donna, Josh, PTSD, a Mustang and a conversation about Auld Lang Syne.





	Old Long Time

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Old Long Time**

**by:** Georgia Bean

**Character(s):** Donna  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Post-Ep for the Dover Test, Donna Angst, Friendship  
**Rating:** MATURE  
**Summary:** Donna, Josh, PTSD, a Mustang and a conversation about Auld Lang Syne. Post-ep of sorts…set after the events of Dover Test. Could be considered AU, I suppose.   
**Spoiler:** Story contains vague references to speculation based on certain spoilers for eps airing soon (December 2OO4 – January 2005). Timeline? We don’t need no stinking timeline.  
**Author's Note:** Feedback is appreciated! 

The East Room of the White House

9:30 pm

The East Room of the White House during the annual Christmas party is a sight to behold. It glows and shimmers with all the best: world-class cuisine, world-class entertainment, world-class décor, and world-class attire. Basically the White House pauses to throw one hell of a party. 

So imagine being me, in a roomful of world-class minds and leaders, sitting at a nearly empty table, dreading every waking moment. My dress itches. It’s gorgeous and expensive and it is uncomfortable as hell. Mix in the frequent conversations like “Gosh, Donna Moss! You look wonderful, considering, well you know,” or “Was it exciting on the CODEL?” or “God Donna, we saw those pictures of the accident and it’s a miracle anyone walked away from it alive,” or my personal favorite tonight, “We’re so glad you are not dead! Want a glass of champagne?” People actually say these things to me. To be fair, none of my friends or close associates wanders into that conversational swamp, just the casual passersby who realize who I am and feel obligated to acknowledge the whole thing.

I’m glad most everyone else is off at the bar, dancing or hanging too closely to Harry Connick Jr. I’m glad for the lull in the evening. It’s a lot of work keeping the sparkle in my eyes and my dazzling smile plastered across my face. 

Have I told you I’m considering calling myself Deputy Deputy Downer? Don’t laugh. I actually think about things like this. Last year I would have loved this party. Last year I would have been the one closest to Harry Connick Jr, married or not, he’s lovely to look at during the holidays. Margaret would be with me and we’d be impressing him with our wit, charm and extensive knowledge of his musical accomplishments. Plus, I’ve seen every movie he’s been in, not many people can own that. Last year. Last year. It hurts to think. Why won’t this headache go away? 

“Do you remember when Zoey first started at Georgetown?” 

Oh hey, Josh is still here. It’s really easy to wander off into my own thoughts lately. Hard to sparkle and dazzle when you zone out all the time. Gotta work on that. Blinking quickly I focus my eyes on Josh and give him the best of my attention.

“Remember that the President threw a big chili dinner and all of us had to be there?” 

“Yeah, that was a nice night.”

I haven’t thought about that night in ages. I miss Mrs. Landingham, and Sam. I even miss Mandy. Seriously. She was like your neighbor’s evil terrier who terrorizes the neighborhood with the barking and the chasing and the chewing on your shoes, and you’re just glad that dog isn’t yours. Mandy’s fits and tantrums made me laugh. Made me glad I wasn’t like her. Oh, Josh is still talking. Oops.

“Did you know I’d spent the day, as CJ put it, ‘having a nutty’ over the NSA, smallpox, Joanie and how everything could fall apart in the blink of an eye?” 

“I didn’t see you there till later.” Huh.

“Yeah,  CJ had to come and get me.” 

“That was a nice night, Josh, I remember. It was Big Block of Cheese Day.” 

I remember feeling so warm and loved and happy. It feels like a million years ago and another dimension. I wonder if somewhere right now there is a parallel Donna who is living that life. The life that didn’t include being blown up, sewn up and sent home to pick up the pieces. That parallel Donna’s probably still smiling and arguing with Josh and dating an interesting man. If Parallel Donna were lucky those last two things would actually be the same thing. But here, now, I’m adrift, I know it, I know why, and I feel helpless.

Josh is continuing with his chili feed story. He knows my mind is drifting. He’s sweet to work around these moments, like nothing’s wrong. It’s sweet now, it’s better than being pressed to talk, to tell him how I feel. 

“You know how the President has this uncanny way of putting things into perspective? At the party he said he loved to throw small parties because it made him happy to see coworkers socializing outside of work. He and Leo pointed out to me how much they love “these women,” CJ, Mandy, Mrs. Landingham, you, Margaret, all of you. They were in awe of all of you, smitten, so to speak, for who you were as individuals and how you each made our administration unique. Well, I assume that’s what they meant.” 

“Hmmm. Interesting, Josh, really.” What’s he after? If he tells me the chili is a metaphor for something I may deck him.

“I remember watching you that night Donna, smiling, professional and relaxed.  Sitting on that couch you radiated your optimism, energy, all those things that make you, well, you. If I don’t say it enough, I’m saying it right now. Donna, you’ve earned just as much respect in this White House as anyone! Here we are rounding out our second administration and you could run my office on your own if you needed to. There have been many times when listening to your ideas saved my butt. Did you know that when we got left by the motorcade during the second campaign the President said something like if it wasn’t for Donna Toby and I would have to buy a house out there because we’d never make it back alive. There are times, Donna, I wonder how much I’ve held you back and where you’d be if I’d been more open to… I don’t know. I’ve been selfish with you. It never occurred to me that you’d want more, to grow. I heard you but I wasn’t listening…”

He was rambling and it was aggravating. He’s not an easy man to work for, but I’ve had my reasons for sticking to the job. 

“Josh, you know why I never went anywhere,” Where did the banter go? God, he and I could go round after round. It was fun. Now, not so much.

“It doesn’t make it right. No, Donna don’t turn away, listen to me on this,” His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “You stuck around for a life with Dr. Freeride until it was unbearable. You, very wisely, struck out on your own. Have I done that to you? Have I held you up by locking you into expectations and circumstances? Last year was, not our greatest year, was it Donna? I mean, the CODEL was it an attempt at striking out on your own again?” 

I can feel that headache stomping its way to the front of my forehead again. Why is he doing this now? 

“Josh,” his name escaped my lips in a pleading sigh. 

I don’t need GuiltyJosh now. When it comes to those he loves, I know his emotions run strong and close to the surface. He hides it well from those he keeps at an arm’s distance. I’ve been able to read him forever. Now, right now, he’s wide open and feeling guilty about sending me on the CODEL. I just can’t get swept up in that particular current. 

Across the room Harry Connick Jr is singing “The First Noel” at his piano surrounded by a small group of singers. He really does sound like Frank Sinatra.

“Donna?”

At times like this I wish I could sink further into the fog and mists of my mind. Doesn’t he see that this isn’t about him? Right now, it’s too much effort to feel better. Everything just feels heavy, even Josh’s words weigh me down. Technically, I know what’s going on between my ears. I’m not an idiot. I’ve been down that road with the man sitting next to me.

“I know, Josh, I know.” I pat his forearm reassuringly and use my sweetest tone and smile, hoping he’ll just drop the whole ridiculous conversation. Apparently I can’t pull it off, though, I’m not even able to look him in the eye. I can feel his gaze, strong and steady, on me. It’s like one of those interrogation rooms where the cop has the ridiculously bright light shining down on the perp and blinding him. Confusing him. Scaring him.

 

“You know what, Donna?”

“You know what this song reminds me of Josh?” Diversion, save me now.

“Auld Lang Syne?”

“Yeah. Do you remember the end of ‘When Harry Met Sally’?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s the end of the film and Harry has come to the New Year’s Eve party to tell Sally he loves her. Right in the middle of their happy reunion he asks about the words to Auld Lang Syne. He doesn’t know what the words of the song mean. He asks Sally and she doesn’t know either.” 

I look up and notice he’s waiting for me to continue.

“I just remember what she said to him, she said, ‘Well may be it just means that we should remember that we forgot them or something. Anyway it's about old friends,’ I don’t know why that’s sticking in my head.”

“Wasn’t Harry Connick Jr in that movie?”

A whisper of a smile crossed my face. 

“Yeah, actually he was. That’s funny. Maybe I should go ask him what the song means. Maybe he can tell me why I can’t get it out of my head.”

“Donna?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been there, you know.”

“Where?”

Damn, he’s got me. I’ve got to keep a better look out for these conversations. He’s getting better at sneaking them on me.  
  


“Where you are right now.”

“The East Room?”

I’m nearly turned away from him completely. Why won’t he let this go? I know he knows. I know he knows that I know. I know. I know. I know. I damn well know! It doesn’t make it any easier, all this knowing, in fact right now it’s worse. I know what is going on, shouldn’t that make it all better?

He’s looking at me with that face. That’s the face that makes me want to let it all go, cry and curl up in his arms. That’s also the face I want to take a swing at with a strong right hook.

“I know you know, but that’s not making it easier is it? You know what’s going on in your head but the fog isn’t going anywhere and everything is moving too fast and too slow all at the same time,” his voice is steady and warm. 

I can’t look at him when he’s doing this. The condensation on my champagne flute is in need of my immediate attention.

“You can’t sleep at night and you can’t relax during the day. You feel like you are falling behind in everything and the key to getting all back on track is just ahead of your grasp. You feel alone in the group. Some days you feel like the person you were is gone forever.” 

God, his voice can actually get hypnotic. 

“One minute you are feeling good, work is rolling along. The next minute you are so mad you can’t see straight and everyone around is an idiot. You get frustrated with yourself because you don’t like feeling this way. The carousel goes round and round and you’d like nothing better than to jump off of it and beat those wooden horses back to pulp.” 

“So? You know it does, Josh. I know you know it does and we’re just both so full of knowing I could spit.” 

God, where did this tone come from? I sound like a venomous snake coiled to strike. I’m lashing out at the one person, who I know for a fact, understands where I am in my own skin. He knows, he understands, he cares. He’s been nothing but wonderful and here I am bitching him out praying to God that he’ll just go away. Christ, I hate this light flashing behind my eyes. It makes the headache worse and it’s tough to watch champagne bubbles travel to the top when you can’t see them. 

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“What?”

My eyes are still crunched shut. God, I’m tired.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“Where would I go?”

My head feels heavy. I’ll just rest it here in my hands for awhile.

“We’ll walk.”

I finally get the energy to look him in the eye. He’s kidding right? My chest muscles ache like a bitch and these crutches annoy the hell out of me. Never mind the unending joy that is a multiple compound fracture. Things are not like they used to be. From the beginning we were able to walk the walk, literally, better than anyone. It can’t go back to that, not right now anyway.

“Right, no walking tonight. We’ll get CJ’s Mustang and go for a drive.”

“Where?”

“Who cares?”

“So you propose that we, two poster children for PTSD, drive around DC amid the overblown commercialism of the holiday season in a borrowed Mustang convertible? You think that’s wise?” 

I believe I can add expert-level snark and sarcasm to my ever-expanding repertoire of attitude. I hate that I can hear the words tumble out of my mouth and I can’t seem to catch them before they do.

“Donna, is this working for you? This sitting here drowning in your own head, is it doing it for you?” Josh’s voice was stronger, more urgent, though his words were softly spoken. “Why not go for a drive? So we may not find an answer, but we’ll get a different perspective.” 

“Why not?”

Oh hell, Harry Connick is only reminding me about all the ways my perspective had changed in the last few months. Here he’s singing about love and peace on earth and on my best day I feel hollowed out like Charlie Brown’s miserable tree, you know, before all the love and shiny garland. I just don’t see things like I did before. That night at the chili feed I really was innocent. I probably didn’t think so then, but I sure as hell do now. That sunny disposition Josh loves has been on permanent hiatus for too long. I just can’t seem to find my way back. 

God, look at him. His eyes are so warm and brown. If the room were to be firebombed at this exact moment I’m not sure he’d notice, he’s that focused on getting to me, helping me, reaching me. There are tiny moments in all of this when I think, ‘Donna, just keep your eye on Josh. He’ll be your lighthouse through all this shit. Just keep your eye on Josh. He knows the way out.’

“Why not, go ask CJ. I’ll get my coat.”

I’m glad he jumps up so quickly. It gave me the chance to wipe the tears welling in my eyes.

The Streets of Washington DC

10:30pm

We pulled away from the White House into the night. The air was sharp and damp. It took a minute for CJ’s windows to defrost. We just drove around in silence until he pulled up in front of his building.

“Wait here, I’ve got to run in and grab something. I’ll be right back.”

What’s he got? He’s carrying a big bag of something. Throwing it behind his seat he jumps back in and starts taking the top down. What’s he doing? Why is he putting the top down? 

“Josh, you know the average temperature for Washington DC in December is 40 degrees?” 

He’s not saying anything, just smiling. He’s got the heat cranked up. The top is down and the heat is up and we’re driving around DC like two escaped mental patients.

“It’s cold out here! Put the top back up. CJ will have you in a sling if you go out on the streets of DC with the top down. The cops will pull us over and give you field sobriety tests. It’ll get on the news! ‘Boss of Ingenue Bombing Victim Detained during DC Driving Debacle!’ Toby has enough trouble keeping it together at press briefings.”

“Here. Put these on and throw a blanket on your lap. You are from Wisconsin are you not? Didn’t you have winter there?” 

He’s looking at me in a strange way. His words aren’t mean or harsh, just quiet and they leave no room for argument. So right now he’s rolling down the boulevard with no intention of putting the top back up. 

So here I am in a ridiculously expensive dress, wrapped up in a thick blanket, earmuffs, a nice Burberry scarf and mittens that are too big for my hands. My nose is cold and I can’t tell if I’m shaking from the cold, nerves, embarrassment, or a combination of all three. 

“Good grief, this is silly Josh.”

“Relax Donna.”

“Whatever. Drive.” 

Pulling my blanket closer I sink down further into the seat. There’s a good chance he’s lost it and we’ll end up going round and round on Dupont Circle until CJ calls the cops to report a stolen car.

The streets around the monuments are quiet. It’s dark and they are lit beautifully. So much marble, cement, sacrifice, pain, joy, and spirit reside in these places. These are the places where we honor real heroes, men and women who answered the call of service to our country. Admiral Fitzwallace, he’s one of those heroes. He belongs to places like these.

So here I am, cold and still, the living dead, watching the silent monuments to the honored dead pass me by.

“Did you know I called Stanley last week?”

“Your Stanley?”  My voice sounds really far away.

“Yes.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I did.” 

Why? 

Josh looks significantly less silly than I feel as we travel down the road. For one, he isn’t in a strappy evening gown and fluffy earmuffs. He just has on his overcoat, scarf, gloves and a wool hat. He looks so steady, almost unreal, you know, like an angel. 

“I had a question.”

“You mean you called him? He didn’t call you?”

“No. I called him. I wanted to know what to do with all of this.” Josh swirled his arm around in the air between us.

“With me?”

Hey, my voice can do that high pitched thing too.

“No.”

“What do you mean?”

Still got that incredulous high pitched thing going with my voice.

“I don’t know what to do with all these feelings mashing around in my head.” 

“What’s mashing about in your head, Josh?” 

“I don’t know what to do with all my feelings about you Donna.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t sleep on the plane to Germany. I didn’t sleep in your hospital room. I didn’t dare take my eyes off you from fear you’d die. Guilt and fear gnawed at me at every turn. Jealousy and dejection weren’t far behind when I met Colin. And now, you are home and I see you are on a path I recognize. I see what you are doing and what you are hiding and it’s killing me. Problem is, I can tell what you are doing because I’ve done those things too. What I don’t know how to do is be there for you.” 

“Serious?”

“Yeah, being a person who loves someone with PTSD can be difficult. It’s scary because I don’t know what to do, how to help you. Donna, you were the one who saw me, saw what I was doing to myself, and got me help. I need to know from you how you did it. How you saw me through it all. I need to know because I want to be that for you.” 

“So you want to be my Donna?”

Hee. That even made me laugh.

“Maybe we’re just coming round full circle. I just want to do a better job seeing you through.”

 He’s serious. My attempt at humor couldn’t even distract him from his train of thought.

The cold breeze is biting at my eyes again. That, or he’s really saying all these things. If I weren’t so numb from the cold I’d, well I don’t know what I’d do. I’m numb but I don’t hurt so much.  

“Hey Josh, you’re not going to put the top up are you?”

Well, that’s one thing I could say. 

“Nah. The cold feels good.”

“Distracting me by freezing me isn’t going to get me to pour out my heart, fling myself into your arms, cry my eyes out and let you put me to bed. This doesn’t work that way, Josh.”

What’s he doing? Oh crap, he’s pulling over. At least he found a parking lot. 

“You can’t avoid talking forever Donna.” 

He’s facing me and I’ve got nowhere to hide. 

“Do you actually think your entire being would let you stop talking? Maybe you don’t feel it yet, but you are still there. Your heart, your spirit, your enthusiasm, your optimism, they are still there.”

“You been watching Oprah when I’m not looking?”

Again, no reaction with the humor. 

“Running away from yourself, from me, from all of us doesn’t feel very good does it?”

“It’s not that easy and you know it.”

“Yeah. I know. You know. There is much knowing between us Donna. Problem is the knowing’s not enough.”

I think the snot in my nose has finally frozen solid.

Taking off his leather gloves he reaches across and takes my cold face in his warm hands. It’s electric. It almost stings. My face is raw from the cold and his warm hands both hurt and heal. I can feel my lip trembling. I can’t see him so well, these damn tears are getting in the way again.

“Don’t talk Donna. Don’t try to bring the funny. Don’t try to distract me or yourself. Just please listen. You will get through this. There’s a reason, you may not feel it yet. But you will. Keep talking with your counselor. Talk to me. I’m right here. I’m never far away, even if I’m across the country, I’m not far away.”

Looking at him, I’m almost ready to believe him. 

“Everything’s just so heavy Josh.” My voice sounds small.

“Yeah, I remember. Does it ever feel like you’ve can’t even move?”

I can feel my head nod in agreement.

“Do you ever dream about what would have happened if you hadn’t gone on the CODEL?”

“Sometimes.”

“I remember wondering if I was ever going to resemble the person I knew myself to be before the shooting. I was sure I lost myself that night.”

“I just can’t seem to find my way out of this Josh. I don’t know how to get out.”

As the words tumble out my mouth I can feel my voice breaking. My eyes are wide with tears and I was trembling again. I can’t look at him anymore, I just can’t. 

“I was afraid of myself Donna. I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. Who was that haggard old man? Was that me? I could see the desperate look in my eyes and I felt like I was staring at a stranger.”

“So what do I do now?”

“I’d love nothing more than whipping you up in my arms and taking care of you until all the hurt goes away. But I don’t think that’s the answer.”

 

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not your therapist and I’m not some new age zen doctor here to make you all better. I just brought you out here to go for a ride.” 

There are no easy answers are there? 

“So, Mr. Chauffeur, can you drive us to a coffeeshop?”

“You want to go for coffee?”

“Yes, please.  One of those greasy spoon all-nite diner kind of places.”

Sometimes all this doesn’t feel so heavy when we’re alone together. 

Josh smiled and put his gloves back on. He put the top up and we drove off into the night.

Roadside Café

Midnight

“Josh, why did you put the top down?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Is it weird?”

“You are going to think it is. I wanted you to feel alive. The biting cold, Donna, your body worked to protect you from it. You didn’t have to know it to let it happen.”

“That’s kinda Zen Doctor of you Josh.”

“Yeah, that’s me, Joshua Lyman, Zen Doctor.” 

“You couldn’t think of anything else? You know, something not so cold?”

“While we were driving around I thought about that song.”

“Auld Lang Syne?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you come up with?”

I stirred a packet of Splenda into my steaming cup of coffee.

“The song is about endings and beginnings. It’s a little sad, a little wistful, and a whole lot thankful. It made me think of you. Actually it made me think of all of us: me, you, CJ, Toby. We’re nearing the end of something. We’re facing new beginnings soon. I’m going to miss all of us together, working late nights to pull off a political coup. I’m going to miss the camaraderie of our group. Chances are that we’re going to be going separate ways.” 

“This been on your mind lately?”

It was nice to not talk PTSD for awhile.

“It’s a melancholy thought, don’t you think? Do you remember those early days on the campaign? The first election? God, that was huge. I’m going to miss the core group of us. Through all the shit and the frustration of the last few years I can’t help but love it all. We’ve survived MS, Sam’s leaving, a re-election campaign, a string of gomers on both our parts, hey stop laughing.” 

“You admit to having gomerettes in your life?”

“Yes, now stop being silly. I’m musing on the meaning of Auld Lang Syne.” 

“Please, don’t let me stop you.”

 Oh, he’s giving me that look. The one where he’s not sure if I’m serous or facetious. I give him a small smile to help him figure it out.

“What’s CJ going to do? What about Toby? What about you? What about me? The Bartlet administration is nearing an end. To quote the President, ‘What’s next?’”

“You think I’m leaving you?”

“It depends on what kind of leaving you are talking about Donna.”

“Josh, I grab his warm hands across the table. Who did I ask for in Germany?”

“Yeah, I know.”

A smile is creeping across his face. 

“Maybe there’s more out there for you Donna. DC is a big place and I’m thinking you are ready to take it on. Don’t you? Think you are ready to move on?”

“Well, I’ve handled you for years. I’m betting getting out there will be easier having been trained up by the Infamous Joshua Lyman.” 

Josh snorted in his coffee. Yeah buddy, you’ve been nothing but joy and light all these years.

“I don’t know what’s coming next. I know I like having you around. I like working for you but I’d rather be working with you, officially, anyway.”

“Funny how one small word can change everything huh?”

He’s so right. He doesn’t know how right he is.

“Thanks Josh, for this, for tonight, for your impossibly silly Convertible Top Down Therapy Theory. This feels good, Josh. Talking about the future. It feels good. I haven’t felt good in awhile.”

“I’m glad. You’re looking tired Donna. Want me to take you home?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

It’s hard to be clear when you’re yawning out your answer.

Donna Moss’s Apartment

Two Days Later

6pm

Trudging home up the stairs in the snow has not been the easiest task to master. I’ve been embarrassed enough because Josh has taken on the role of chauffeur in my life. When the snow began to fly he lugged up a big bag of kitty litter to throw on the steps and filled my entryway with shovels and ice scrapers. He’s always around now to make my trip as safe as possible.

I’m feeling some better after Josh kidnapped me and attempted to freeze me to death. I didn’t tell him, but he really is my lighthouse in this. I know it. I feel it. I just keep my eye out for him. I know I’m surrounded by allies and people who will help me find my way. 

What’s this? I didn’t leave any packages on the counter when I left this morning. Huh. Josh’s handwriting on plain brown paper wrapping. Hmmm..

Hey, it’s a book. An old book. An antique volume of Shakespeare’s love sonnets. 

Love sonnnets. For me. From Josh. Look at these pages! They are so delicate! Wow, this old book is dusty. It’s got to be the dust, you know, causing all this water welling in my eyes.

I know there’s something written on the inside cover. I just know it. Yeah, there is. Josh says my penmanship is bad? Ha! Oh what did he say?…

_Donna,_

_I don’t know if Robert Burns wrote sonnets, but he was Scottish, so that’s sort of like Shakespeare. Did you know the translation of Auld Lang Syne means “old long past”? You didn’t know why Auld Lang Syne was sticking in your head. I don’t have an answer for you. (Stop laughing!) But I do feel that you’re making your way through. Did you know the song has more verses than just one? If you read them all, I think you’ll see what I’m talking about…_

Should old acquaintance be forgot,  
And never brought to mind?  
Should old acquaintance be forgot,  
And days of old long past.  
  


_And for old long past,_ my dear,  
For old long past,  
We will take a cup of kindness yet,  
For old long past,  
  


We two have run about the hillsides  
And pulled the wild daisies fine;  
But we have wandered many a weary foot  
Since old long past.

We two have paddled in the stream,  
From morning sun till noon;  
But seas between us broad have roared  
Since old long past.

And there is a hand, my trusty friend!  
And give me a hand of yours!  
And we will take a right good-will drink,  
For old long past…

I can’t steer you through this Donna. I can only wade in to the storm and hold your hand, if you’ll let me. We can only look back and honor the obstacles we’ve overcome to get where we are today. Without you in my life, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. Just so you understand, the sonnets were on purpose. I didn’t just steal an old book of love poetry from the library and vandalize it with translated poetry from Middle English. 

_I know you know what’s going on in your heart and mind, and I know you think it’s driving you crazy. I don’t have an answer or an easy out for you. I do know you are not crazy. You know that too. Just keep breathing._

_Keep reaching out to those who love you._

_You know our truth, Donna. You can trust it._

_I don’t know what the future holds for any of us, neither do you. The world could end tomorrow and all I know for sure is that I’d want to be standing right next to you when it all ends._

_Love,_

_Josh._


End file.
